


For The Love He Bears Her

by bellamy



Category: The Queen's Thief - Megan Whalen Turner
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-09
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-07-13 23:13:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7142129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellamy/pseuds/bellamy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Eugenides teaches Irene how to be a thief, he tells her stories from when he was learning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For The Love He Bears Her

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lostsheepdog](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostsheepdog/gifts).



> Title taken from MWT herself, when Attolia pardons Relius, I believe. 
> 
> For the gift exchange! This was a delight to participate in.

Eugenides didn’t like to talk about his past much. He’d made a lot of mistakes when he was younger, and he preferred that the world look on him as the Queen’s Thief who stole the Gift and the king of Attolia who united the three kingdoms, rather than the boy who tumbled off a roof and tripped over a cat. It was his royal opinion that those stories were best left to the past.  
  
Still, when he began teaching Irene to move about as he did, old memories were called up, and he started sharing them with her to help her learn and to reassure her that he was not born a perfect thief. He thought that perhaps it would have rankled him in the past to admit his flaws, but presently, he preferred Irene’s smirk to her frustrated scowl, so he shared his stories.  
  
As she started learning to walk silently in hard-soled shoes, he told her the story of the first time his grandfather tested his silence. He and his brothers used to sneak out late at night from time to time, to go see a performer in town or spy on the arrival of some delegation. A few weeks before one such night, Eugenides’ grandfather had given him hard-soled boots to wear at all times so he could practice, but upon sneaking back in, he realized that in the silence of night, each step with the boots was clear as a bell. His brothers urgently shushing him, Eugenides, who had neglected his practice, desperately tried to step quietly. He succeeded well enough until they reached the living quarters, where even his most gentle steps were audible. They were in front of their parent’s door when they heard movement from inside, and while Eugenides’ brothers could bolt silently to their rooms in their leather-soled shoes, Eugenides stood, chagrined, as his father emerged and banned him from leaving the castle for a month. His cousins mocked him for much longer than that, and his grandfather made him practice every night for the entire month he was grounded.  
  
Irene laughed at him, and the next steps she took were much more controlled, and much quieter. Eugenides smiled.  
  
The next skill he taught Irene was pickpocketing, and she became similarly frustrated. He shared with her the story of the first time he pickpocketed someone and nearly ruined treaty negotiations. He was eight, and he’d practiced time and time again on his grandfather, but he knew that it didn’t really count unless you actually stole something. So, during festivities surrounding a diplomatic visit, Eugenides flitted through the crowd with a purpose, looking for someone rich enough to make it worthwhile. He settled on a man he’d never seen before, all dressed in rich furs with silver chains linking them. Eugenides knew he wasn’t supposed to linger long or give your mark the chance to identify you, so he moved quickly, plucking a heavy velvet bag out of his pocket. Unfortunately, Eugenides’ sleeve caught on one of the silver chains, and he had to yank quite hard to get free. He tried to run, but was quickly caught by the scruff of his neck and pulled back around to face the very angry, very bear-like face of his mark. The man began shouting at him loud enough to draw the attention of the entire hall, making broad accusations and thoroughly humiliating Eugenides. The man, it turned out, was the head diplomat of the visiting party, so for nearly ruining treaty negotiations, Eugenides was the butt of all jokes in court for the next year, his cousins redoubled their malicious efforts against him, and he was confined to his quarters except to eat and attend lessons.  
  
It was perhaps Eugenides’ most humiliating memory, but it amused Irene to no end. She practiced pickpocketing (and reverse pickpocketing) her servants, and though she failed often enough, she was content to know it would never be to the extent that Eugenides had failed.  
  
A year later, having mastered sneaking and pickpocketing, they were scaling their castle walls in the dead of night. Despite Irene having a cord tied from her waist to a windowsill, she was terrified, and when they stopped for rest on an empty balcony, Eugenides told her another story. He was twelve, and he was scaling the walls of Baron Georgas’ estate in Attolia. It wasn’t supposed to be a difficult endeavor, but he’d become distracted, and his misplaced foot and subsequent scrambling and shuffling was enough to alert those inside to his presence. He was brought into the house in chains, and Eugenides didn’t speak for fear of revealing his identity through his accent. He tried his best to look stupid, and it wasn’t long before they stopped questioning him and locked him in the attic to be taken to the guard in the morning. This was the first time Eugenides had found himself in such a dire predicament, and he knew that if he messed up again he’d be done for. He picked the lock on the small attic window and lowered himself out of it, moving so carefully that the chain linking his wrists didn’t make a sound. He climbed down, agonizingly slow, so that by the time he was all the way down, it was nearing dawn and his hands were rubbed raw from the tight clinging he’d done. He ran for it, and never told a soul that a minor Attolian baron almost caught the Queen’s Thief.  
  
Irene liked Georgas, and she liked that he had bested an invading Eugenides once upon a time, so the story gave her a careful smugness that helped her move more deliberately as she scaled the castle back up to her room, Eugenides behind her.  
  
It wasn’t long before Irene was doing her own spying in the castle, using the passages and vents Eugenides and taken her through time and time again. Her sleight of hand improved so much that she was occasionally even able to pickpocket Eugenides, to her extreme delight.  
  
The only thing she couldn’t hope to match Eugenides at was his reckless, long-distance leaps. She asked him once how he learned to take such risks, put so much faith in his god. He told her the story of childhood practice, of the death of a mother, and finally, of a conversation with his god.  
  
Eugenides leapt, and sneaked, and stole, hoping each time that the gods would smile on it, and let him go free.


End file.
